


Goodbye Today

by witheredkitten, Yzarc362



Series: Today [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sunshine - Freeform, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23443006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witheredkitten/pseuds/witheredkitten, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yzarc362/pseuds/Yzarc362
Summary: Crowley went to sleep after St. James Park, he doesn't wake up until 1942. A time when the world is trapped in combat. He meets a face dear to him and experiences a tragic event regular to World War II.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Today [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686493
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Goodbye Today

Europe, 1942

I don’t know what possessed me to leave the flat. My nap had sailed nicely through the human’s so-called  _ Great War _ and  _ Spanish Flu.  _ Both of which were credited to me, even during my  _ Great Nap.  _ I know the answers to my own questions though. The bloody angel got himself all wrapped up in this sick joke. Prancing from boy to boy, playing the  _ saviour angel.  _ It was a throb in the head, all the pleading to God and begging for mercy. It even brought me out of my lively death. Goddamn humans and their guns-

“Fuck!”, Crowley cried out. He fell to the grainy field, clutching his thigh.

“Shit, man down! Get a medic!”, he heard one of the other men call. 

Of course, a hit to the thigh was  _ most welcome.  _ Those fucking humans and their shitshacks.

“Crowley?” The whisper caught the demon’s attention almost immediately. “Aza?”.

Damn, I wasn’t expecting to see one of God’s heavenly children so soon. I had all kinds of apologies ready, but now I know I never really did.

“A… Aziraphale,” Crowley panted. “I’m sorry I left. I, I was a git”. Aziraphale had a stunned look on his face, perhaps from Crowley’s apology or the blood. 

“Apolog- apology accepted”, he kneeled, “I can help you with this now.” He gestured to the bleeding thigh. 

“No, no, it’s fine. See, I can keep going...” As Crowley attempted to stand he collapsed from the weakened state of the limb. 

They both looked up as the other men tried their luck against the guns of the enemy, unlikely to live through the event.

“Crowley, please…” Crowley looked away but made a small nod of assent. Aziraphale swiftly went to work. He examined the wound closely. 

“Crowley, the…” Aziraphale paused, the words he had to say clearly pained him. “...the bullet hit the bone, I think.” The two shared a knowing look, a glance that shared without words the sadness and panic that has seized them. 

No. Not the leg. There’s no way it comes off. What would be the purpose of keeping this body clean, perfect! No bloody discorporations, no messy cuts. One damn piece of metal would be enough to rip through the limb of his demonic body. One piece of rotten luck.

“I can’t, Aziraphale. I can’t” Crowley’s body seized up from the lurking blow. 

“Crowley, it has to be done. The only other way…”, Crowley’s head snapped up at the prospect of another way out. 

“Do it, Angel.” Aziraphale’s face had a tightened look upon it when he heard the demon’s request.

It would potentially be his final act as an angel. The act of corruption as he blessed Crowley’s body with his power. A miracle of an Angel to save the display of his Demon. Was it worth the act? Does he have the willingness and control to bear it? He had to. He had to pull it from within. He’d rather die than see his Demon lose his pride and achievement.

“Okay, okay. Lay here”, Aziraphale lowered Crowley down onto the dead grass. He took a last steadying breath as he pushed a miracle into a being who resisted so, so much. 

Shit! I knew this way wouldn’t be good. I can feel my very  _ soul  _ shrivel even more at the angel’s heavenly presence. His light burning holes into my body. I thought this would  _ help,  _ not turn me into the cannon fodder laying nearby. But how is the Angel pushing this into him? Shouldn’t two mortal enemies be unable to  _ help each other _ …

It’s for Crowley. You told him you could give him another way. I can feel my power fading already. This act would be my final as a child of God, this I know now. I can feel Her fade away as I push Her power into Crowley. There’s no burning feeling like Crowley’s fall, just a silent numbness. No taunts from other Angels. No jabs to be heard from Gabriel. I can feel it slip now. The soul which I had nursed since my creation, the wings which flew me beyond the unknown, and my power which healed the lost. 

“Is it, is it done?”, Crowley peered through his fears. 

“Yes, it’s done”. Aziraphale fell back from the exhaustion that had just crawled into him. 

“Are you okay?” Crowley, the ever perceptive one, noticed the angel’s weakness. 

“Yes, of course! Tickety boo!”. Crowley let it go. Maybe if he had kept pestering the Angel it would’ve made all the difference, or maybe it was meant to be. 

Aza looks exhausted. But who can blame him with all of this war and death going around? Hell, even Death is tired around this time. With that shit going on in Germany, even I wanted to punch that fucker in the face. Maybe even coax him into a special spot in Hell.

They both heard the trademark wails of the Stukas. With nothing good to follow they both gathered their supplies to sprint out. “Angel, let’s go!”, Crowley reached back to pull him up. A loud thump echoed through his head. Crowley watched in terror as Aziraphale’s body rocked from the impact of the bullet. 

“No! Shit!”, Crowley rushed forwards and caught the now limp figure. 

“Aziraphale, Aza. Please don’t go, not right now”, Crowley whimpered to the sullen figure. 

“Crowley, Crowley, please sing.” Aziraphale gazed upon the Earth he once protected so fiercely, and gently. 

“Aza, you know I don’t sing, not after…” Crowley felt guilt, but he decided to put their past experience behind them. Now was the time for a happy ending. 

“Crowley, please. I’m not coming back this time.” Aziraphale gazed into Crowley’s serpentine eyes with a soft, comforting look. “What? No. You’re an angel, you’ll come back. You’ll come back!” Crowley’s voice wavered on those last words. Aziraphale lifted a soft hand to the Demon’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Angel, no! They have to let you back into Heaven!” Crowley had suddenly realized why Aziraphale  _ couldn’t _ go back. His own  _ vanity  _ had corrupted Aziraphale, and now neither Heaven nor Hell would accept him.

“Fuck, Zira! Not like this, don’t go!” Crowley sobbed out with tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

“Crowley, please sing. Please.” With a final plea, Aziraphale was beginning to fade. They could both tell.

Crowley paused, then sang:

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine” They both felt Death’s presence looming close. 

“You make me happy when skies are grey.” The dark was coming close to their bloody perch on the field. 

“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you” Crowley’s song travelled over the field like a bird in the morning,

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

  
  


Crowley held onto the cold body of Aziraphale. The sun slowly rose and reflected his tears that now spilt freely for the death of his love, his sunshine. 

“And now you left me on my own...”

**Author's Note:**

> Broskis we don't know anything about angels and demons. Assume that this all works in tHiS universe.


End file.
